A pristine, newly opened TECH BUILDING gleams in the sun.
Men in suits. Secretaries. Normal life.
TIME-LAPSE shows:
— Morning crowds
— Afternoon bustle
— Shadows stretching
— Dusk settling in
The building never sleeps.
Something inside does.
[INSIDE the TECH BUILDING – LOBBY – at DUSK]
The camera glides through glass and steel.
Up past the open atrium.
Over a railing.
Toward a THIRD-FLOOR.
---
[INSIDE of a THIRD-FLOOR OFFICE]
The BACK OF A MAN’S HEAD.
His head had been TAPED to the back of a chair.
Blood matted his hair.
His head hung forward, his chin rested on his chest, lifeless.
The camera never shows his face.
It pans right, away from him instead.
Behind a polished desk sits THE OVERLORD (50s). Controlled. Dangerous.
The Overlord is on the phone.
OVERLORD (low, final):
“Just HANDLE it. No more excuses!”
He hangs up.
The Assistant hesitates.
OVERLORD:
“You’re done for the night.”
The Assistant nods, uneasy, and exits. The Overlord rises, straightens his jacket, and leaves the office alone.
---
[In the PARKING GARAGE – later that NIGHT]
Concrete. Fluorescent lights.
The Overlord walks to his old grey Volvo.
He gets in.
Closes the door.
Silence.
Then—
A presence.
In the REARVIEW MIRROR—
A FIGURE sits in the back seat.
Too tall.
Too still.
The Overlord GASPS, and frantically throws his car door open, stumbling out.
He spins.
The back seat is EMPTY.
He breathes hard. Barks a laugh. Sharp. Forced. Throws a punch in the air while he barks one nervous laugh. Puts a mean face back on.
("stupid…")
He circles the car.
A VAN is parked next to his Volvo.
As he steps past the van—
The MARKER stands directly in front of him.
Still.
Close.
His body locks.
His eyes pulse WHITE.
The world drops away.